


To Move On is to Grow

by WhisperedWords12



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Blow Jobs, Consensual, Dom/sub, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Kneeling, M/M, Pining, Power Dynamics, Public Sub!Stiles, Relationship Negotiation, Stiles finds his identity, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperedWords12/pseuds/WhisperedWords12
Summary: Stiles decided to put on the collar that marked him as a sub for public use at 16. By law, it was the youngest he is allowed to, and was the only one in his year to do so. It's when Scott gets bitten and Derek comes into town that everything changes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from We Came as Romans

Stiles decided to put on the black collar that marked him as a sub for public use at 16. That made him one of three students in the whole school to make that choice. The other two were girls in the year a above him, both of whom waved shyly as he past, flashing a supportive smile.

It was the youngest he was allowed to. The law stated that you had to be 16 and could only be used as long as it didn't interfere with his schooling and hiring chances.

On the first day that he put it on, his father did a double take and couldn’t hide his hurt expression.

"Are you sure son?" He'd asked.

Stiles was so anxious he couldn't speak, just nodded.

His father looked dejected, but pulled him into a tight hug.

Stiles bit his lip. His mouth was dry and there was a huge knot in his stomach. He knew his father was blaming himself. Stiles wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. That this is what he'd wanted for a long time.

He couldn't tell his father the number of times he put on the collar in the privacy of his bedroom, just looking at himself. How dark it was against his pale skin. How he'd practice kneeling in it to be ready for someone.

His father let him go with one last pat on the back and sent him off to school.

Showing Scott had been less awkward.

He'd looked at it with interest—more like stared at it—before shaking his head and patting Stiles on the back. "About time." Scott had said, smiling.

A little bit of anxiety disappeared. Stiles had smiled for the first time that day. "Yeah, but you're practically my brother. That'd be incest."

He‘d tried to be cheeky, to his own ears, it sounded weak.

If Scott noticed, he didn’t say anything. He rolled his eyes, pulling Stiles down into a headlock.

Stiles allowed himself to breathe again.

It was a week before anyone asked to see him. Mr. Harris caught him on the way out of class.

Scott gave him a concerned look but Stiles waved him off, the classroom door clicking shut between them. He walked over to where Mr. Harris' sat, legs shaky.

Mr. Harris was eyeing his collar, his hands resting steeple against the desk. "It's recess Mr. Stilinski,” he said finally. “How would you feel about spending it with me?"

Stiles swallowed, heart in his throat. He nodded.

Mr. Harris pushed back his chair, motioning for Stiles to kneel at his feet.

For all of Stiles' practice, he still shook, getting down somewhat awkwardly.

Mr. Harris smiled, sliding a hand around the back of Stiles' head. Stiles focused on that, grounded himself.

"Do you like that?" Mr. Harris asked, his fingers squeezing gently.

Stiles couldn't speak. He nodded.

Mr. Harris looked pleased. "I like you this way Stiles. Quite. Finally listening to me properly."

Stiles snorted and Mr. Harris' hand tightened in whatever hair he could manage to grip onto.

Stiles bit back a moan and slumped bonelessly into Mr. Harris' grip, waiting.

Mr. Harris nodded. "I want to fuck your face and then have you kneel for me until the end of recess. Is that alright?"

Stiles nodded.

Mr. Harris sighed, "Out loud, Mr. Stilinski."

Embarrassment made his ears go pink. "Yes sir."

"Is there anything you'd like to add?" Mr. Harris asked, eyebrow arching above the frames of his glasses.

Stiles hesitated. "I don't want to come."

Mr. Harris looked at him evenly. "As you wish," he finally said. He reached down into his drawers, pulling out a condom to offered to Stiles.

Stiles sat there frozen, staring at the foil package. He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to figure out why this was suddenly feeling so difficult. Everything he had worked up to for the past couple of years was a lead up to this moment. Stiles swallowed, reaching up for the condom with shaking fingers.

Mr. Harris stopped him with a hand on his, grip gentle. "You're allowed to say no, Stiles." he said, voice even.

Stiles nodded, unable to look him in the eye.

Mr. Harris sighed. “Is this your first time?”

Stiles felt himself go red, the blush spreading down to his chest. Mr. Harris leaned forward, fingers tracing down Stiles’ neck, stopping at his shirt collar. Stiles’ silence said it all.

“But you want this?” Mr. Harris asked, finger hooking into the D-ring of Stiles’ collar.

Stiles nodded.

“Your voice, Mr. Stilinski, use your voice.”

Stiles swallowed. “Yes sir.”

Mr. Harris looked him over. “Excellent. We’ll start you off with a hand job then—“

“No!” Stiles said, but instantly regretted it, wincing.

Mr. Harris arched an eyebrow.

“I’ve been, um, practicing. At home. I want to do the, uh…”

“Blowjob.” Mr. Harris finished for him.

Stiles nodded. Fuck, he was fucking this up.

Mr. Harris nodded. “Well Mr. Stilinski, you’ve always have amazing potential but if the topic doesn’t interest you, you rarely tend to excel. It’ll be nice to see what you’ve been able to learn having finally found something to set your mind to.”

It took everything in him to not roll his eyes.

Mr. Harris pushed the condom into his hand. “How about you start and I’ll help guide you?”

Stiles swallowed and ripped the condom open.

Mr. Harris let him fumble and choke his way through a couple strokes before he gripped the back of Stiles’ head, slowing him down and coached his way through it. Stiles was embarrassed but thankful as Mr. Harris praised him, giving him pointers and telling him when he wasn’t doing it properly.

It took a little while, but Stiles finally thought that he had found his rhythm, closing his eyes as his pace became consistent. He nearly choked again as the angle changed as Mr. Harris stood. He gripped the back of Stiles’ head, grunting as took over the pace. Stiles braced himself against Mr. Harris’ thighs, the pace having gotten rougher.

Stiles’ eyes watered as Mr. Harris’ hips snapped unevenly. He was drooling down the front of this shirt and he was definitely sporting an erection that would be unmistakable to anyone who noticed, but he didn’t care. Someone was holding him tight, praising him for his work as Stiles did was he was made for, what he _needed_.

Mr. Harris pulled Stiles off suddenly, jerking Stiles out of his daze. He held Stiles’ chin up with bruising fingers while he jerked himself through an orgasm.

Stiles watched, lips parted as Mr. Harris came, panting a little himself. Mr. Harris took his time, pulling off the condom and disposing of it before even looking at Stiles.

Stiles had never been more turned on in his life.

Mr. Harris reached down into his drawer to pull out some wipes. He sat down in his chair, Stiles still kneeling in front of him panting. He efficiently cleaned himself off and put himself away, before moving on to clean up Stiles.

“Can you stand?” Mr. Harris asked.

Stiles nodded and stood on shaky legs. Mr. Harris watched. He guided Stiles down onto his lap, so that Stiles was straddling his thighs.

He pulled out a couple juice boxes and snacks out of his drawer, offering them to Stiles.

Stiles accepted them with quiet thanks.

Mr. Harris nodded, then looked down pointedly at Stiles’ erection. “There’s nothing you want me to do?”

Stiles shook his head.

Mr. Harris sighed, “Then how about you eat those and show me that you’re okay, then we’ll send you off.”

Stiles nodded and ate.

Mr. Harris watched him. “You have to tell people if you don’t like something or they will take advantage of your silence.” he told Stiles pointedly. “We both know you can speak enough for everyone.”

Stiles smiled, ducking his head as he took a sip of his juice.

Mr. Harris sighed and reached around Stiles, grabbing a pen and paper. “At this rate you’ll be late for your next class. I’m going to write you a note this time, but don’t expect this to be the norm, Mr. Stilinski. I’m not going to let you be late for everything.”

Stiles blinked. “Does that mean we’re going to do this again?”

Mr. Harris paused in his writing, looking up at Stiles over his glasses. He went back to his note. “As long as you want to,” he said, tearing the note from the pad. He folded it and pressed it into Stiles’ hand, exchanging it for the juice box.

Stiles looked down at the note, then up at Mr. Harris. “Thank you.” He said, slightly overwhelmed.

Mr. Harris waved his hand dismissively. “Next time we’ll do this when you have more time to discuss what you enjoy in more depth.”

Stiles nodded and stood. He was only half hard now, and if he readjusted himself it was barely noticeable.

Mr. Harris looked him over approvingly. “You’re okay?” he asked.

Stiles nodded. He felt great. Better than great. With the awkwardness of the first time over with, he felt fantastic. Confident. Still a little horny.

Mr. Harris dismissed him as the bell rang.

Stiles went straight to the bathroom and waited till it was empty before entering a stall and dropping his pants. It didn’t take him long before he was coming, biting his lip against the sounds that wanted to escape.

Panting, he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of the back stall, smiling.

____________________________________________________

After that, subbing became easier. An arrangement with Mr. Harris formed. He was no kinder to Stiles in the classroom but when they were alone his cool attention to detail made Stiles _want_ to be better. Mr. Harris’ directions were easy to follow and encouraging, making Stiles preen whenever he got a compliment or earned a moan from his teacher.

Mr. Harris wasn’t particularly kinky, but he did like being rough with Stiles. Maybe he recognized how broken Stiles was, saw through the big talk and sarcasm. He liked pushing Stiles, seeing what he could do. To Stiles’ unending surprise Mr. Harris always checked him over afterwards and made sure he was okay.

It wasn’t only Mr. Harris though. After a particularly rough game, Coach called him into his office and fucked him against the desk, leaving bruises for a week. Coach had kissed each of those bruises after, holding him as they lay tangled together, exhausted but no longer as frustrated.

Danny called him over after school one day to work on a project. Not that Danny was particularly Dom-y but he fucked Stiles hard with his face pressed to the mattress and cuddled him even harder afterwards. Danny’s stamina was unending and after four rounds Stiles had passed out, bonelessly tangled up with Danny.

Scott never asked, but he knew what was happening. Especially after he got bit, making his sense of smell so much stronger. It had gone from curious looks every once in a while to outright smelling him after every new fuck. But Scott never asked and Stiles never offered. It was how he liked it.

It was when Derek came into the picture that Stiles knew he was in trouble. How his eyes traveled uncaringly over Stiles’ collar the first time, his casually inhale as Stiles went by, completely uninterested. Stiles would have been annoyed if he actually liked Derek, but they seemed to share a mutual distaste for each other.

As Derek built his pack, that changed. The new werewolves began taking interest in him. Derek didn’t tell them they couldn’t. They took advantage of that. Stiles liked Erica best but didn’t mind Isaac so much after the first couple of near-death experiences together. Boyd only played with Stiles when Erica was there, letting her take charge of the situation.

One time Stiles had sought out Boyd, asking to kneel for him for a bit while Boyd read for class. Boyd had seemed surprised at the offer, but had placed a pillow down, letting Stiles slide in between his legs. Derek had found them like that, arching an eyebrow before leaving them. Stiles remembered feeling embarrassed, turning his face into Boyd’s thigh. Stiles ended up blowing him after, Boyd’s cock stretching his mouth in a way that he couldn’t get from just anyone, a sense of peace flooding his mind.

It was a balancing act between constantly being in danger and finding relief in subbing for his friends and those who sought him out.

Derek had gone from indifferent to curious, showing it only in rare moments. Stiles would occasionally catch him looking, especially after spending a night with one of his betas.

Driving alone in the car one time, Derek had asked about Stiles’ choice to wear a collar publically.

Stiles had shifted uncomfortably. “Um. A therapist once said I have a busy mind. Subbing helps with that.”

Derek’s nose pinched, his eyes on the road. “I can’t pretend to understand.” He said after a while. “but I don’t love you smelling like other people all the time.”

Stiles bristled. “I’m sorry that my lifestyle is bothering your sensitive nose.”

Derek didn’t respond.

Stiles was pissed. It wasn’t like he was risking his life for Derek’s pack at every moment or anything. It wasn’t even at Scott’s request either.

Derek must have felt him seething next to him because he sighed, reaching over to place a hand on Stiles’ thigh, higher then Stiles would have expected him to. Stiles jumped, but Derek’s hand only tightened.

“I can’t tell you what to do…”

“That would be a first.” Stiles grumbled, earning a glare from Derek.

“But my wolves all like you. They can probably take care of you if that’s what you need.” He finished.

Stiles was floored. He swallowed, feeling the full weight of Derek’s offer. “I’ll think about it,” he said quietly. Sincerely.

Derek nodded and pulled his hand back, putting it on the steering wheel.

By the end of the week an agreement was reached. All of the withstanding relationships Stiles had as a public-sub had been easily let go of, everyone parting on fine terms. Not that they had much choice. Ultimately it was Stiles’ choice to wear or not wear a collar. It was also his decision on whose collar he wore as well.

Letting go of Mr. Harris had been harder than he’d expected. During the week of negotiation between Stiles and the pack, Stiles and Mr. Harris agreed to have that be their last time together. Stiles had never been fucked harder or better by Mr. Harris than he had in that week.

On the last day, as Mr. Harris was cleaning him up, Stiles felt something surprising filling his ass. When Stiles’ looked at him curiously, Mr. Harris just shrugged, continuing about his work. “I want you to remember our time together, Mr. Stilinski.” He said simply.

Despite his flat tone and even look, Stiles knew the gift meant something. He flexed his ass around the plug inside him that had always been his favorite after sex. He had kissed Mr. Harris hotly for that, kneeling one last time afterwards. Mr. Harris’ fingers in his hair the whole time was nostalgic. He was almost sad to see this relationship go.

Stiles finally worked out his list of yeses and nos with the pack. He would keep his black collar for whenever he needed something more, but elsewise the pack was there to give him what he needed. They would understand if he went out with his black collar but encouraged him to talk to them first.

Stiles expected some kind of ceremony or something. He was glad when that didn’t happen.

During one of their nights together Erica pulled out a dark blue one, holding it out to him.

Stiles froze, his fingers running over it. He shivered. This meant something. Being presented with a collar meant he was owned.

“It’s from our pack,” Erica said, sitting back to look at Stiles. She was about as confident nude as Stiles was fully dressed.

That was a horrible comparison, Stiles always felt slightly awkward. But blissed out and floating after an orgasm, Erica pulled him to her and helped him unbuckle the black one and fastened the blue one.

She looked him over, her eyes soft. “It looks right on you,” she said.

Stiles smiled and allowed himself to be manipulated into a tangled up position on the bed. Eventually the bed dipped as Boyd joined them. Stiles had been too tired to even raise his head, but he felt Boyd shuffle over so that he was pressed up to Stiles’ back.

Just as he was slipping back off, he felt fingers tracing along the collar. Boyd hummed, pleased, then settled in behind Stiles. The next morning Erica tied him up and made him eat her out while Boyd fucked him. They put a plug inside him and made him eat breakfast afterwards like that.

Stiles had to beg Erica to untie his hands.

In the kitchen, Derek watched them the entire time, saying nothing.

Alternatively Isaac made his way over, not being subtle about the way he sniffed at Stiles. Stiles was about to tell him off when Isaac leaned down and nipped his neck playfully.

“You smell like pack,” he said quietly.

That’s when Stiles started spending more time sleeping at Derek’s place then in his own bed. He wore the black collar when he went home. He didn’t need his dad asking about who he was sleeping with, even less to admit that it was Derek’s pack.

But never with Derek.

Stiles almost thought Derek didn’t care at all until he caught Derek staring at him as he changed his collar in the front hallway. His lip was curled in distaste, watching. Stiles had thought Derek had misread the moment, thinking he was going back to being a public-use sub. He was about to explain when Derek crossed the room, pushing Stiles up against the wall.

Stiles froze as Derek nosed at his pulse point before latching on with his lips, sucking the meanest looking hickey into his skin, visible to everyone.

Stiles gasped, arching into Derek’s body as Derek’s tongue worked itself against the skin there. Derek’s hand snaked up into his hair, pulling gently.

Stiles moaned reflectively. Derek’s thigh slid between Stiles’ legs, pushing lightly against Stiles’ hardening cock.

Then, as soon as it had started, it was over.

Derek pulled back in a startled jerk, as if he couldn’t believe where he was or what he was doing. He took a half step back, eyes wide.

Stiles swallowed, well aware of how debauched he must look right now. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get rid of that “just fucked” look Derek had likely given him.

Stiles wished he had just gotten fucked, but he was already late getting to his father’s.

Derek blinked, looking at the blossoming bruise. He reached out and touched it. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned into it. Fuck, he loved it when Derek touched him. It was so few and far between.

Derek cleared his throat and Stiles looked up at him. “Sorry,” Derek said, voice rough. “I just…” he struggled. “I didn’t like seeing you take off our collar.”

 _Our collar_. How easily it rolled off the tongue.

Stiles nodded, his car keys clinking in his hands. He wanted Derek. He wanted him so bad.

Derek seemed to be struggling as well, looking torn. But Derek didn’t touch Stiles the way he needed. He never did.

Stiles cleared his throat and stepped away from Derek, reaching for the front door.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

Derek nodded.

Stiles was hoping Derek would run after him or something. Clearly he didn’t know Derek well enough.

For good measure he waited a second longed in the parking lot.

Nothing.

Stiles swallowed, pulling away from the place that had become home.

____________________________________________________

After that, everything changed.

Stiles could feel Derek’s eyes on him whenever he got dragged off by one of the betas. The rules stayed the same though, which Stiles was thankful for because he needed this. He needed Erica tying him up and being his domme. He need Boyd’s quiet confidence, whether he was following Erica’s lead or when it was just the two of them. Isaac provided something for him, awkward and quick fucks that were boyish and made him feel like he still had some power in all of this. Even Scott let him kneel for him whenever he needed.

They all cared for him.

Except Derek.

Not that Derek didn’t care for him, he just didn’t ask Stiles to sub for him. He showed he cared in other ways. A couple weeks after Stiles had gotten his blue collar, Derek found him on the couch, a low buzz of lust running through him. Derek had stopped, looking at him. Stiles hadn’t been aware of just how well they smelt until that moment. Embarrassed, Stiles had turned away. Derek had left him sitting there, likely disgusted with him. Moments later Isaac was there, pushing him into the couch playfully, grinding their hips together.

Maybe not disgusted, Stiles had realized, just uninterested.

But fuck, a huge part of Stiles wanted him. Stiles knew better than anyone that it took both partners to be in agreement and Derek just didn’t want him like that. Unfortunately, in a house full of werewolves with advanced senses, they all likely knew just _how_ bad Stiles wanted him.

Derek had watched him for days after planting that hickey, making Stiles shiver every time he caught it. Stiles felt a shifting point in their relationship after that.

Derek was no longer holding himself at a distance. In the kitchen, he’d put his hand on Stiles’ back as he passed behind him. Occasionally before bed Stiles would get pulled into a hug. A hand in his hair, a squeeze of his arm, Stiles was getting more but remained frustrated, knowing what he wanted.

After a particularly challenging day trying to avoid death, Stiles found Derek sitting on the couch, staring unseeingly at the tv. Usually Derek would have felt him come in, turned around to say hello. He didn’t budge, even when Stiles rounded the couch to look at him.

“Can I join you?” Stiles asked uncertainly.

Derek’s eyes flicked over to look at him for the first time, surprised. He sat up a little straighter and nodded.

Stiles took up a place an acceptable distance away, pulling his legs up to rest his chin on his knees.

Derek looked exhausted. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. He looked over to where Stiles was sitting and stretched. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know about kneeling, but if you want…” he stopped, looking uncertain.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said, trying to save him the discomfort of offering to try. “I’ll go see Boyd later if I need.”

Derek snorted, smiling a bit. “It’s a sad day when an alpha can’t provide for his pack.”

The comment startled Stiles. “Pack?”

“Yes Stiles, pack.” Derek frowned. “You have to know that’s what you are to us, right?”

Stiles ducked his head, turning back to the tv.

He jumped when fingers found his wrist. Stiles slid a guilty glance over at Derek.

“What I was going to say earlier was that if you wanted, you can put your head on my lap.” Derek offered, somewhat awkwardly.

Stiles processed Derek’s offer. It didn’t take long before he’d made his decision. He stretched out on the couch, his head on Derek’s thighs.

They laid there, someone stiff and awkwardly in each other’s presence. Stiles couldn’t even focus on the tv, so tuned into every movement of Derek’s body, ever twitch and flex of the muscle.

He froze when fingers found their way into his hair, massaging his scalp. Stiles let out a shaky breath, melting into it.

The more Stiles seemed to relax, the more Derek did as well. Stiles didn’t know who turned the tv off or when, but it didn’t matter.

Derek’s fingers hooked around Stiles collar, tracing along the edges gently. He sighed. “It’s hard to think that someone who looks death in the face more often than others would need something like this.” He said, pulling gently at the D-ring.

Stiles closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s because of that that I need it.”

“Do you find you need it more or less now?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles thought about it. “I need it…differently…since you guys gave me this collar.”

Derek hummed, not pushing.

Stiles swallowed, felling the collar dig in just a little more as he did. “I think I like when other people take charge, when I don’t have to make decisions. Makes me feel calmer?” he tried to put it into words, feeling the need to explain. “I don’t have to think as much or about all the shit happening around us.”

Derek let go of his collar. “Maybe that’s why you feel subbing different with us. We have our own power dynamics naturally built into our pack. You might be feeling that.”

Stiles hummed, “Maybe.”

There was a silence.

“Wait, are you saying I’m at the bottom of your pack?” Stiles said, sulking.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“Stiles.”

“I’m the bitch of the pack.”

“Erica is technically the bitch—“ Derek whispered.

Apparently not low enough because a disgruntled “Hey!” was heard from across the house.

Derek chuckled.

Stiles shifted, slightly restless. He sat up. “Do you… want to try to help me?” Stiles asked.

Derek looked slightly taken aback. “Um, sub?”

Stiles laughed, “You wouldn’t be subbing.” He said with a smile. “But maybe I could just sit on your lap? I just want to get closer.”

Derek looked uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t feel more comfortable doing that with Erica?”

Stiles sighed, a little embarrassed and pretty disappointed. He stood. “Okay, I can go see Erica.”

Derek grabbed his wrist. “I mean, I can do it. If it’s just...sitting on my lap. I can do that.”

Stiles looked him over. Derek seemed more confident about it all. Stiles nodded and turned. Derek shifted and reached out, guiding Stiles down to straddle his lap.

Stiles went down easily, nestling his face into Derek’s neck and curled his arms between his chest and Derek’s.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ body, pulling him in closer.

Stiles let Derek support him fully, holding him close. Derek rubbed a hand over his back.

Stiles closed his eyes, but he couldn’t settle. His mind was wandering, going places that it shouldn’t be with Derek under him. To Derek touching him the way that Stiles needed him to. Derek could if he wanted to. It was all written up in the contract they kept in a specially box in their living room. He just never did.

Stiles let himself relax completely into Derek, trusting him to support him. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything. This was barely kneeling. Stiles heard the tv flick back on and he closed his eyes. If Derek was getting comfortable, that meant that Stiles could also settle in.

Honestly, he wanted nothing less.

They stayed like that for a while. A couple of the wolves came in, a couple left. Stiles could only tell by the way Derek’s arms tightened around him every time one of them came nearer.

Derek shifted. Stiles groaned, pulling himself closer. He tucked his nose under Derek’s chin, inhaling. Derek smelt good, he always did. Stiles wondered what he smelt like to he wolves.

“Um, Stiles?” Derek asked.

Stiles hummed, comfortable. His head felt foggy in ways that usually took a lot longer to get to with other people.

“You’re… yeah, Stiles.”

Stiles froze, flushing red. He was getting hard. Which was probably more evident to Derek than it would be to anyone.

Stiles whined, embarrassed.

Derek chuckled, rubbing his back reassuringly. “It’s okay. It’ll go away.”

Stiles swallowed and took some deep breaths. He tried to keep still, to focus on horrible things like… old grandmothers and dead cats or something. Nothing helped. He swallowed, licking his lips, thinking over his choices. None of them seemed great right now. Fuck, he’d finally gotten Derek to at least kind of take care of him and he was fucking it up.

But it didn’t seem so. Derek was still rubbing soothing circles into his back. Stiles let out a shuddering breath, knowing what he had to do.

When he tried to pull back, Derek’s arms held him firmly in place. The movement jostled Stiles, making him moan.

Derek didn’t look uncomfortable. If anything, he looked determined.

Stiles bit his lip. “You’re going to have to let me go. It’s not going to go away.”

Derek let out a soft chuckle. “I figured it wasn’t.” he said gently.

Stiles blushed and tried to untangle himself from Derek again to no avail.

“Can I… help?” Derek asked.

Stiles froze. He couldn’t help the little whimper that came out. This is what he had been waiting for since forever. His heart rate and breathing picking up.

“Stiles?” Derek said, drawing Stiles back.

“Yes please.” Stiles said before he could stop himself.

Derek smiled. Stiles often forgot about how dangerous Derek could be, that hidden side all but disappearing now as he gently pulled Stiles back closer.

Stiles tilted his hips, rubbing himself slowly against Derek’s middle, testing.

Derek’s breath accelerated, making Stiles feel more bold. He shifted, getting a better angle to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and rub himself against Derek.

Derek’s pupils were blown wide, mouth open slightly as he looked up at Stiles from this new angle.

“This feels like a lap dance,” Derek said, slightly breathless. Stiles could feel him getting hard under him, his breathing definitely affected by it all.

Stiles smiled predatorily, all teeth. “I usually give the best head after coming.”

Derek arched an eyebrow, taking Stiles’ wrist gently in his hand. “Would that interest you?”

Stiles nodded. He was so hard now, having filled out completely as he worked himself against Derek. Honestly, he could probably come like this, rubbing himself off against Derek’s abs.

He yelped as Derek spun him around, Stiles’ back suddenly pressed up against Derek’s chest. After that, it was all over. Derek barely had to get a hand around Stiles before he was coming, back arching as he let out choked off sobs of relief.

Come still drying on his stomach and on Derek’s hand as Stiles sunk to his knees, focusing on making good on his claim. It was definitely one of the top five blowjobs he’d given in his life. Derek gasped, tangling a hand in Stiles’ hair. Stiles couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the hand that was covered in his come, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. He finally had Derek’s cock in his mouth and he was flying. This night couldn’t get better.

____________________________________________________

Stiles noticed an immediate difference after that. The other wolves still lingered around him, touching him, nosing at him, smelling him, but they slowly stopped bringing him into the bedroom.

Of course, that wasn’t quiet a problem as he definitely had his hands full with Derek.

Derek no longer kept Stiles at an arm’s length. If anything, life was better. Barely a week into it, Derek had fucked him in every room in the house and more. Together they had gone over Stiles’ contract again. Stiles helped him to understand some of his kinks and needs, working out the things that interest Derek more than others and directed him to places where he could learn more.

And shit, Derek was a quick learner.

“What made you change your mind?” Stiles asked him one time.

Derek had looked him over, searchingly. “I guess I realized that none of your needs reflected on your strength of character.” He said honestly.

“That’s nice,” Stiles said, pouting.

Derek sighed and stood, standing behind him. He leaned down and nipped at Stiles’ throat, then kissed the spot. “And I realized that you’re okay.”

“Okay?” Stiles sputtered.

He could feel Derek smiling against his neck, breath tickling. “Yeah, pretty adequate.”

Stiles huffed but reached up to wind a hand into his hair fondly.

Things only got progressively more odd in the house. Stiles asked Boyd if he could kneel with him. Boyd had taken one look at Derek sitting quietly in the background and politely turned him down.

Stiles had sulked momentarily before crossing the room and settled at Derek’s feet.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Stiles accused as he rested his head against Derek’s thigh.

Derek didn’t even look up from his book. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“But?”

Derek’s mouth twitched. “But they are doing it as a sign of respect.”

Stiles let out a small harrumph, but smiled, closing his eyes.

“Is that okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “Better than okay,” he admitted.

Derek let out a pleased sound.

Four nights later Stiles was laying in a boneless pile in Derek’s bed, having just been fucked senselessly into the mattress. Derek was rubbing his wrists gently, massaging out the skin there that had just moments before been bound.

“You good?” Derek asked softly.

Stiles hummed, eyes drooping.

Derek smiled and helped pull him up into a sitting position. Stiles groaned the whole way, but felt immensely satisfied.

Once sitting, Derek leaned over to his bedside table, pulling out a long, thin box.

Stiles’ stomach flipped nervously at the sight of it.

Derek sat cross-legged in front of Stiles, still naked from earlier.

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off the box.

Derek cleared his throat. “So I spoke to the pack. This was a decision that was made by everyone, not just me. We are just waiting on your decision.”

Stiles looked at him, took in his nervous posture and the way Derek’s fingers trembled slightly as he opened the box. Staring up at Stiles was an inch wide dyed green leather collar, the silver d-ring glinting delicately in the light.

Stiles’ heartbeat tripled.

Derek looked at him nervously. “This would symbolize just you and me. I know how much this means to you, Stiles. I want to do this right.”

Stiles looked at it in shock, taking everything in. He pulled the collar from the box, running it gently through his fingers. He shivered. He looked up at Derek and nodded, at a complete loss for words.

“Please say something,” Derek said, his anxiety evident in his voice.

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles breathed.

Derek smiled and reached up, unclasping Stiles’ blue collar. Derek handed it over to Stiles, taking the green one and fastening it perfectly.

Stiles preened under the attention.

“Like it?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded, smiling wide.

Derek smiled, relief clear in his face. “Good. We’ll take a little nap then try it out.”

Stiles was too excited to sleep. “I don’t think I can wait that long,” he said.

Derek closed his eyes, smiling. “Please try, for my sake.”

Stiles whined, then crossed the space between them to pushed Derek down onto the bed into a deep kiss.

Derek chuckled against his lips, but allowed himself to be manipulated around.

“I’m yours,” Stiles said between kisses.

“Mine,” Derek agreed.

They didn’t wait a couple hours. They didn’t even last a couple minutes before they were groping desperately at each other.

Stiles sighed happily against Derek’s lips.

_Owned._

Stiles shivered again. He’d found his place finally.

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, this AU allows anyone 16 or over to wear a black collar marking them as available for public use. A coloured collar implies that they are owned and are therefore "unavailable". Decisions regarding whether to engage in sex are always in the hands of the one wearing the collar.
> 
> Do some good research before engaging in kinky play and this in no way should be--or is meant to be--used as a guideline.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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